“The only family I have are cloudwalkers, and I really don’t like ‘em.” Lightning Strike said with venom in his voice.

“You obviously don’t live in the sky, what happened between you and your family?” At least Vetta had somepony else to ask questions, I was getting tired of finding new ways to point things out.

“When I was young I lived in the clouds, I thought that's just how it was and that was it, I had no clue about the wasteland below. Once I learned what those birdbrains had been doing I abandoned them to make a life here, I can never go back and, honestly, I don’t want to. Is all that we talk about gonna be pegasus stuff? I really don’t want to remember any of this.” Vetta pulled her head back slightly in surprise of his sudden outburst, she had a look of concern but carried on regardless.

“No. Sorry, I’m just curious is all,” He muttered something like ‘who isn’t’ but didn’t interrupt her. “You have a special somepony you have to get to? Oh I guess that was silly, you wouldn’t come with us if you did. Have any good stories?” He rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Why would I have good stories? Do I look like the type of pony to go around saving people? Well, I guess Fortune doesn’t really either, but do you see my point? The answer is no.” Strike spoke with the discipline of a soldier. He looked like one too, or he would if he wasn’t malnourished. If he had a little more meat on him he would look fairly big for a pegasus, with how bony he was he just looked tall.

“Hmph, why do I have to get the boring ponies?” She grumbled with an over exaggerated sigh. It wasn’t our choice, she picked us.

“Maybe you should pick better companions, you seem to be the brains of the group and Fortune is the skill. I don’t see why you wanted me to follow you. I can barely shoot straight, give me a blade however, and I could do some real damage.” I sifted through my bags with magic and pulled out a small rusted machete I had picked up some time ago.

I tossed it to him and the handle wobbled as he caught it in his mouth. “Dis tha bes you got?” I nodded and he just swiped the air a few times with it. It wouldn’t last long, but enough that he could find a better weapon.

I thought it was strange a pegasus would be good with close range, you would think they would need distance since they have a lighter bone structure so they could fly. That would make them weaker right? They had some kind of pegasus magic or something I didn’t care too much about to listen when my mom taught me. I had faith in him though, after all I had no real reason not to trust him.

“Yuh got a sheaf for dis?” I shook my head and he spit it into the dirt. “Then you carry it, until I need it. I’m not holding that filthy thing in my mouth for however long we’ll be walking.” I shrugged and levitated it into my bags with ease.

“You use melee rather than ranged weapons? Why? Wouldn’t it be safer to use distance to your advantage? It only makes sense.” He adopted a cocky look and just grinned evilly.

“Guess you’ll have to see then huh?” Ass.

Without a destination in mind, we walked. We were good at that, just moving our hooves in a pattern of one after the other. A skill that you know when you’re born, it’s strange to say, that is the thing we were good at. I had one Idea of where to go, and that was anywhere that had supplies we might need. With this basic goal in mind, I turned toward a jumble of buildings not far away. Hopefully we would find some bullets, or a fight.

As we fell into our cardiac like rhythm of walking, I focused on how Strike was fairly big for a pegasus. Most of them were just about a pony size taller than me, but he was nearly two and a half. It was really starting to get to me, just how tall others were. Why did I have to be cursed with this tiny body. I’ve met foals my size before!

I nudged him in the side, as he turned to me I raised a hoof up and down from his hoof to his head. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Vetta turned as well, hopefully to translate.

“I believe she is asking about your size?” I moved my head in the usual up and down motion. “I was curious as well, why are you so… large? From what I’ve seen, which isn’t much, you are rather large for a pegasus.”

“Here we go again with pegasus talk. My dad is a unicorn, if you must know. I get my height from him. Happy?”

Vetta averted her eyes toward me, I gave a nod and she turned back toward Strike. “Yes, we are content. Since you are annoyed by our questions, are there things you want to ask us? Walking is so boring, especially just with Fortune.”

I scowled at her, but understood the nature of it, I was a quiet pony, I had nothing important to say, and it probably got annoying to talk to someone that doesn’t respond.

“Yeah, you know, What’s up with Fortune? As far as the stories go, I’ve only heard of her traveling alone. Why all of a sudden is she taking in outcasts?” Strike knew he made a mistake when Vetta turned sharply, stopping in her tracks to kick him in the chest.

“What makes you think I’m an outcast?! I left of my own volition, like a… renegade. I’ll have you know,” The anger in her words stung even my ears, and it wasn’t my fault this time. She was absolutely fuming, the smoke puffing out of her ears was almost visible. Her eyes were filled with a red rage that I hoped I wouldn’t be on the other end of any time soon.

“Sorry! Geez, touchy subject. You get where I’m coming from though, right? She’s a legend and all of a sudden she needs help?” His cool words seemed to wither her boiling upset down to moderate annoyance.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. Truly, I don’t know. She’s not all that talkative, you know? I assume she just got lonely.” That was the gist of it. And I let them know. “We will never really know, unless she decides to talk.” Fuck. That. Not anytime soon at least.

“What do you think her voice is like? I think it’s like really high pitched and squeaky. Wouldn’t that be funny? She’s so small, if she was squeaky, she would be like a chew toy. With blades, and bullets, and y’know the whole murder you in your sleep thing.” They shared a good laugh while I just listened to them make fun of me.

“I feel like it would be feminine, but still tough. I shouldn’t assume but, what’s she going to do? Hurt us for talking?” Oh you’re getting pretty fucking close. “Don’t give me that look, you know i’m just teasing you.” She kissed my cheek and stood back up, fucking tall ponies. Strike had the most joyous smile I had seen him have when he saw the shared affections.

“Oh, this is too good! The scourge of raiders. The ghost of the shadows, is gay! Ohh, I am having the best time of my-” He was interrupted by a kick in the side, just hard enough to knock the wind out of him. He leaned over still smiling. I was going to beat that grin off his smug face.

I stepped over him and grabbed his neck. With a shift of force, and a little magic, he was over me and spiraling to the ground. I saw Vetta not two feet away, shouting, but I was already started. He sat in a heap his legs sprawled out in odd directions. He was on his stomach, so I grabbed his head and mashed it into the dirt. That would teach him.

As the dust settled, he got up to his hooves. “Yep, probably deserved that.” He was still grinning like an idiot. I kicked him again. “Oh, that’s just a little much.” Vetta was the only barrier between me and his severed head.

“Easy, Strike. She has been nice to you, don’t start a fight.” Thank you, Vetta.

“Oh, I’m sure she has some mean words to exchange. Oh Wait! She’s mute!” I would make him mute if it weren’t for Vetta nearby. She wouldn’t want to see the blood gorge from his tongue.

“You really should stop.” At least Vetta was the side of reason. If he felt the need to insult me one more time, he would be put in his place. That place just so happens to be with his head two feet in the dirt, using his mouth to shovel it.

“Or what? She gonna hit me again?” He was no better than a raider. So he would be treated like one.

I moved my hoof to strike him in the side again, but he pushed it and wrapped his leg around mine, flipping me with ease. He pinned a hoof into the base of my shoulder, preventing it to move. Another hoof was on hy head to stop me from getting momentum. I was not new to being pinned. I grabbed a clump of dust in my magic and crushed it, throwing it into his eyes to stun him. “Fucker!” He shouted in high distaste of my not so fair magic. I grabbed a club from within my saddlebags and hit him in the back of his legs, making him buckle and trip. With one hard swing he was on the ground holding his face. Another hard swing to his jaw made him concede. He was a writhing pile of shit, and now he looked like one.

I stuffed the club in my bag and moved back over to Vetta. “You didn’t have to be so rough you know...” Oh that wasn’t even close to rough. He had a whole 20 more freight cars on that pain train.

The fucker was standing up and moving over to us. “Well, come along we have a schedule to keep.”

“Could you at leasht give me a sheck? I’m kinda mortally wounded here.” That struck a nerve and Vetta surely showed it.

“And who’s fault is that?! I warned you twice, you knew you were wrong! And you kept pestering her! She is at least, ten times more powerful than you will ever be. So shut your wounded trap, and fall in line!” It was the weirdest thing seeing her angry. Her usual posh and proper accent was obliterated, and she was showing her wasteland side. Pure impotent rage.

His response was actually quite concerning. He did what he was told, just falling behind us and dragging along. It probably wasn’t the best idea to beat my companion to a limping piece of scrap. I wouldn’t dare go for his wings, even I knew that was too far. I hated pegasi as much as anypony, but it would be the worst thing I could think to ever do. To wound someone just enough to hurt them constantly, but never kill them.

Each of us needed the silence to cool off, and hopefully think on our actions. I really shouldn’t have beaten him, I mean, he hardly stood a chance without a weapon of some sort. I was used to surviving without a weapon, the wasteland often took away opportunities, but not without opening more. To be honest with myself, I’m a badass on the outside, but on the inside… without stumbling upon Vetta I would probably just be another corpse of the wasteland.

The ruined and scorched building loomed ominously above us, as did everything else in the wastes. This place was in fairly good condition for the grueling depths of hell we live in. It had three and a half walls, a partial roof, and intact floors. It’s color was indecipherable from the blackened char that coated it. There was a sign that was posted up on the front wall that read ‘Diner’. Or it did, the N and the R had either fallen off, or were torn from the crumbling façade. Most likely the latter, although I doubt that sign would stay attached to the crusty building if a fly landed on it. It wasn’t ideal to look in for supplies, but places that were usually had locks or tough security. My projected best case scenario was, we would find a self defense pistol and food.

Nothing. After nearly an hour, we found nothing of value. It was frustrating to not find anything and waste an hour of daylight. The only thing that I took from the place was a pair of black tinted aviators. Occasional far off gunfire was heard all the time, but when it sounded in range, there was definitely a thing to go after. We could even loot the bodies, perfect. The others heard as well and followed me as I moved toward the entrance/exit. Strike was staying quiet, which I really enjoyed.

The fire had come from somewhere east-ish, and so that’s where we headed. It got louder and louder until we came upon the culprits.

A slave trade. Ooh, they were going to get it. There was an awful lot of firepower at this trade, a lot more than usual. Most every slaver had a carbine, or some heavy pistol. Our little ragtag group of psycho’s could attack with the most effective brutality, if Strike was telling the truth. Which he better have been, because this was happening.

I gave a signal to Vetta and she just nod and went off toward higher ground. I passed Strike the machete, and it wobbled in his loose grip. I really shouldn’t have hurt his face so bad. He realigned it and gave me a confident nod.

“Scho am ai tha dishtracshun or wha?” I gave him a half shrug and nearly pulled out my board, before realizing I was out of chalk. Him being a distraction wasn’t necessary but it would work if that’s how it had to be.

I nod and he puts on the grin of a madpony, smiling from ear to ear with a bloodstained blade in his mouth. If someone saw that coming at them from the sky at a high speed without pissing themself, I would be scared of them.

He zipped off into the air with an elegance that was meant for ladies, but his size and malice filled smile alone would shame you from making fun of him.

Oh shit, Vetta didn’t know the plan. I hoped she would figure it out, before Strike got a torso filled with lead. I could easily tell she figured it out by the ear ripping scream of the enchanted hunting rifle. Petite really did make a beautiful sound. I moved as fast as I could, delving into the concentrated slow of decisive bullet planting.

Round after round pierced around me, hitting the dirt and spraying it in my face, the sunglasses I found earlier stopped nearly all of the dirt. It wasn’t hard to notice the panic in the slavers. Some fired at Strike, to no avail, practically just giving bullets to the pegasi above the clouds. Some exploded in a gory mess of beauty from Vetta’s rifle. The one’s I shot simply fell limp with little trace that they were killed, other than the small piles of blood on the ground near their body, I wouldn't aim for the head in a time sensitive situation, that would just be idiotic.

I stopped for a moment to find my next target, not focusing on anyything around me but him. He stood there with the utmost calm, like nothing was wrong. He was most definitely the leader, with his cocky posture, leaning against a cart with no care in his eyes whatsoever that his workers were being slaughtered. That was one way you could tell they weren’t Fillydelphia slavers, because they even cared about losing ‘stock’. I could swear I saw him smiling.

As I maneuvered my way carefully toward him, to not get attention because he was obviously powerful, I saw Strike swoop down from the sky. It was hard not to, he flew with such elegance avoiding every bullet as if in slow motion. He drew up his blade and pierced it into the nape of a unicorn pony and pulled it up to rip the spine and sever the head, it was so quick and perfectly routined it was like watching an angel of death descend upon them. That was going to be his nickname, The Angel Of Death. I’ve officially decided our group should have nicknames. Squishy doesn’t count.

Back in reality to the task at hand I moved ever closer to the leader. I think he got bored, because he grabbed a weapon off one of the decapitated slavers. He took aim, miraculously, at me and pulled the trigger without hesitation. Another hole tore into my recon suit and pierced my leg. It’s always the leg isn’t it? But as I winced in pain, I immediately recognised the bullet that ripped into me. It was a fucking hollow point.

I groaned loudly in pain and anger, I could feel the shrapnel dig further away from the impact, with every step the flares moved deeper into my flesh and farther away from their friends. The entry was small, but the pain on the inside was intense. The Stallion was laughing at me, sitting on the ground in pain, and defeat.

“You really fucking thought you could take a slave trade out? Who do you think you are, that Lightbringer prick? No, now that I have you here why don’t you take off that fucking mask? You don’t want to ruin your saviour image, do you?” This Dick was going to get it, if only my friends were here to help.

He was standing over me, his stark black coat shining in the sun. He had a scarlet red mane that flowed in the wind, but his combat armor covered his cutie mark.

“I don’t need this set, these are the sick ones that were going to Red-Eye. That prick takes care of his stock, I clearly could care less what happened tp them. It is good caps though,” Ponies were dying all around us, several slaves screamed for help, and here he was. Talking to me on the ground at his hooves. “Now, Red-Eye’s men will be here soon, and I really doubt you want to deal with those pricks. They have four times better gear, and twice the numbers. You could come with me, or go with them. Either way, you’re going to be a slave” His last word bounced around in my head, and my face shifted to one of absolute terror. I couldn’t be a slave, not again.

He was heavy, and most of the weight was muscle. He chuckled horribly at my squirming, laughing as he knew I was already beaten. I just hoped Vetta and The Angel had the common sense to get out and leave me. Even as I thrashed with all of my being he didn’t budge at all. This was one of those weaknesses of being small.

The gunfire was quieter now, I hoped my companions weren't hurt. The Leader turned his head away from me for a moment before looking back with a weaker, but still threatening, glare.

“I see your gang isn’t so weak, I will handle them,” His will to destroy was clear on his face, absolute malice filled every muscle in his body. He chucked me hard into the wagon behind him, knowing that I was unable to move with a hole in my leg and probably a few fractured ribs.

There were so many bodies, a lot of them were dead slaves killed by slavers wo finally got their fun. Several dozen were slavers, lain without body parts or missing chunks of flesh. So much blood spattered across the field of battle. A few raiders wandered by and rolled joyfully in the puddles of red delight.

I sat against the wagon, not chancing movement, and just watched as my ‘gang’ worked together to kill as many fuckers as possible. I caught a glimpse of Strike floating elegantly on practiced wings, ripping apart slavers spraying blood everywhere. He had a new weapon, some sort of sword, and he used it to it’s fullest. He was coated head to tail in a thick slew of blood and dirt. If it weren’t for his elegance, he might’ve been mistaken for a raider. One thing was clearly apparent. His grin of mirth, turning ponies’ inside to outsides just brought him some sort of sick joy a raider would be proud of.

As my vision blurred in and out of blackness, I looked for a glimmer on Vetta’s scope. It was really hard to see when you were losing surprising amounts of blood. But it was there, far in the distance, just peeking out of a window, was a shimmer of light. Followed by another, then a bullet tore into a slaver, followed by the crack of a rifle. Over and over again, the same rhythm. The last thing I saw before I blacked out. Shimmer, flash, pierce, crack.

~~~~~

Fires ripped through the city. Our once humble little home, was set ablaze with the fires of destruction. Screams were everywhere, I heard ponies I knew yelling to anyone for help. And I sat there. In a small, dark corner, where no pony would (hopefully) find me. The loudest hoofsteps I had heard sounded somewhere nearby. Loud hissing and crunching followed the same thump, as it got closer. Smashing of objects was everywhere and it just got closer. Eventually it met my position.

The door to the closet I was in pulled open, and I saw him. A dragon. Or as close as it got to one. The skeletal skull of a dragon sat upon a pony's head. The pony in question was an absolute goliath, sure I was small. But he stood taller than even the door. Steam blew out of the sides of his mask, and his ‘eyes’ glew red. He was all red with strange writing all over his body.

I sat in the corner, making myself as small as possible and using the spell I learned, by myself, to hide my colors as much as possible. I looked into his eyes, and he surely looked into mine, absolute control was all I could see. He had control over everything that was happening. Control over me. There was nothing I could do but tremble in fear.

He chuckled, and it actually rumbled the floor beneath me. “Aye, Barb ain’t going to believe this…” and he walked off. The most horrifying creature I had ever lay eyes on in my young life, and probably ever would, left me to cower in the closet.

The screams went on and one scream stood out, it was a scream from the one filly who was ever nice to me and it was silenced with a crack of a rifle. Everything I knew was burning and dying, and there was nothing I could do. So I sat and cried.

I cried for what felt like an hour, with no real way to tell the time it was my best guess, and the shouts and yells didn’t stop. I got tired of sitting and doing nothing, even though I was probably going to die, it would be better than sitting and listening to everypony I know die.

I made my way through the destroyed shack until I found mom’s room. I moved her mattress, pushing and using magic until I saw the weapon lain on the boards. Mom said it’s name was ‘The Solution’ which didn’t make sense to me. One, why name a gun? And two, why Solution, when I was told guns were never the answer? I pushed away my worries and held the hefty 44 revolver in my magical grip, and stepped out the door to try and help my town.

I saw our neighbor’s house torn to bits by flame, and the owner sat outside impaled on a pike sticking out of the ground, her face was torn off and nowhere to be seen. I shuddered and turned away, if I just didn’t see it, it wasn’t true.

A pony was running through the town with a long tube connected to a tank of sorts, as he bit a trigger in front of him a long stream of fluid followed by flame erupted from the tube as he laughed in joy. These sick bastards were having fun.

I knew to stay away from the groups, they would easily kill me, then again so would nearly anyone else. I moved toward a group of residents that were bound together in chains, all female. A few looked at me and yelled shouts of, ‘go away’ ‘run’ ‘save yourself’ but that just made me want to help more. A few of the mares at the end of the chain had a stallion, or even two, on them. I had to look away to keep my innocence, or whatever of it was left, also not to puke everywhere.

I moved closer to the mare directly in front of me and pointed the gun at the lock, I may not be accurate but it’d be hard to miss at point blank. The gun roared as I pulled the trigger, sparks flew briefly and the mare wobbled out of her chains. “Thank you so much! I’m not hesitating to leave, save yourself.” And she ran away, but bullets are faster. She fell, and was dead in seconds. I didn’t save her at all…

I moved to the next and hoped she would be smarter, shot the binds and she simply moved behind me, staying in the dark a little ways back. I used the last four bullets, surprisingly without getting caught, and moved over to the group behind me.

“What do we do now?” It was almost funny to see a full grown adult asking a miniscule foal what to do, it would be if my town wasn’t being devoured in flame. I pointed toward a fence that I pried a hole in a while ago, it would be small but easy to rip further. Each mare seemed to jump over to the hole in the fence and pull at it simultaneously.

After each was through, the last waved me through the fence. I stood in place and shook my head, I wouldn’t leave without mom.

“Please, kid. I don’t want you to die, you’ve saved us. Our hero.” I just turned around and started walking, it would be the only way out of this, they wouldn’t let a foal die willingly. When I turned back, they were gone. And I was out of bullets.

~~~~~

So blacking out from blood loss was a weird experience. I could have sworn that dream lasted hours, but here I was sitting in the same place with little change. It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes since I blacked out, the blood pooling around me was getting exponentially more concerning by the second. My suit did little to hold in blood, but it was better than just letting it spill over.

I didn’t see Strike flying around anymore, but then again I was barely able to see a few feet in front of me. The loud Crack of Vetta’s rifle was gone, but everything was muffled anyway. I really shouldn’t have been alive with this much of my blood sitting around me, but here I sat, awake to an extent, and losing feeling of my body. Just before I passed out again I could see ponies in heavy looking metal armor marching like soldiers with several griffins flying above. Each appeared to have rather large weapons, but then again I was probably just hallucinating.

~~~~~

The first thing I noticed was how little pain I was in. I couldn’t quite place why, but I felt numb. I rolled my shoulders and faced forward with a new resolve. I was going to go find mom.

With an empty revolver and nothing to protect me, I braved walking in between shadows through the ruin that was once my home. I saw several gangers jump with joy as they ran past toward the main central of town. I stayed behind until no more ran past.

I sprint across the street to make my way to the shacks on the other side, they weren’t the best for cover but at least they would hide me some.

The central courtyard was surprisingly flame free, but had several ponies lined up and bound in rope. They didn’t look scared, they looked like they were accepting what was happening. I scanned my eyes across each pony and studied their features briefly.

One was brown coated, and he had an orange mane. Another was silver with a green mane. Each had severely different features, none of them severely appealing except for one. Mom sat near the end, third from it. She had a defeated look I’d never seen her wear. Like she knew there was nothing she could do. But I could do something, er… I could try.

I moved behind the shack again and looked around for something sharp, or something ribbed to get through the ropes. I eventually found a metal comb with pointed edges, it would work well enough. Hopefully.

I realized there was a flaw in my plan, the ponies surrounding the group of residents was massive. There was no way I would get through that and get her out alive. I was utterly helpless.

~~~~~

This was a familiar feeling, being dragged behind somepony with a rope around my forehooves. My recon suit was doing little to protect me from dirt getting into the gap in my flesh. Rhythmic thuds of heavy hooves sounded, they were coming from in front of me, the pony pulling me along. There was no bag on my head this time, although I was completely bound.

I was on my side while they pulled me, and I could feel every rock dig into me as i pulled against them. I chanced a look as much as I could in attempt to see the pony pulling me. I could just catch a glimpse, in the uncomfortable position, of their dark green tail.

I moved around a little, hopefully to catch their attention, and they stopped briefly and dropped the rope, circling around to face me. It was Strike, with his beautiful jade eyes shining in the light.

Wait, light?

“Mornin’, sunshine! You sure missed a lot!”

_________________________________________________________

Level up! : (5)

Why’s it always the leg!: Your leg has sure gone through hell. You’re 10% less likely cripple your left foreleg. As for the rest, well they don’t need it as much.

Author's Note

This is gonna go on Hiatus for a while, because I just can't bring myself to write it. No assurance as to how long.